THE FIGHT FOR 
THE ARGO NNE 

"WILLIAM BENJAMIN WEST 






Copyright^ 

COPYRIGHT DETOSIT. 



The Fight for the 
Argonne 

Personal Experiences of a "Y" Man 



WILLIAM BENJAMIN WEST 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
BY 

BURGES JOHNSON 




THE ABINGDON PRESS 
NEW YORK CINCINNATI 



*$* 



Copyright, 1919. by 
WILLIAM BENJAMIN WEST 



APR 14 1919 
ICLA515231 



TO THE BOYS OF THE 37th DIVISION A. E. F. 

WITH WHOM I WAS PRIVILEGED TO 

SERVE ON THE ALSATIAN BORDER 

AND IN THE ARGONNE 



FIGHTING UNITS OF THE 
37th DIVISION 

GUARD ARMY (OHIO) 

AND THEIR COMMANDING 
PERSONNEL ON SEPT. 5th, 1918 



37th DIVISION 

Major General C. S. Farnsworth 

Commanding. 

Lieut. Colonel Dana T. Merrill 
Chief of Staff. 

Major Edward W. Wildrick 
Adjutant General. 

73rd BRIGADE OF INFANTRY 

Brig. General C. F. Zimmerman 

Commanding. 

145th Regiment 
Col. Sanford B. Stanberry. 

146th Regiment 

Col. C. C. Weybrecht. 

135th Machine Gun Battalion 

Major Charles C. Chambers. 

74th BRIGADE OF INFANTRY 

Brig. General W. P. Jackson 

Commanding. 

147th Regiment 

Col. F. W. Galbraith, Jr. 



148th Regiment 
Col. George H. Wood. 

136th Machine Gun Battalion 
Major John A. Logan. 

62nd BRIGADE OF FIELD ARTILLERY 

Commanding officer not announced 

134th Regiment 
Col. Harold M. Brush. 

135th Regiment 
Col. Dudley M. Hard. 

136th Regiment 
Col. Paul L. Mitchell. 

112th Trench Mortar Battery 
Captain A. S. Dillon. 

ENGINEER TROOPS 

112th Regiment 
Col. John R. McQuigg. 

SIGNAL TROOPS 

112th Field Signal Battalion 
Major Russell L. Mundhenk. 

DIVISION UNITS 

37th Division Headquarters Troop 
Captain Frank F. Frebis. 

134th Machine Gun Battalion 
Major Wade C. Christy. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

Introduction 11 

I. Five Weeks in a Flivver 15 

II. On the Move 42 

III. Our Invincibles 54 

IV. Holding the Line 71 

V. Tanks and Tractors 83 

VI. Pen Pictures 91 

VII. Moral Flashes 112 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Ford Camionette Driven by W. B. 
West Frontispiece * 

Facing page 
German Aerial Bomb (small) 24 i 

German Aerial Bomb (large) 48 

Memory Sketch of a Sector of the 
Battlefield, 1918 54 

French Officer — German Officer 64 

German Weapons 94 

Varieties of Shells and Bombs (Photo- 
graphed at Nancy) 120 



INTRODUCTION 

T was on the road from Neufcha- 
teau to La Foche, where Base Hos- 
pital 117 was located, that I first be- 
came acquainted with the author of this 
book. He evidently knew how to run a 
Ford camionette, even though it was not 
in just the shape in which it left the fac- 
tory. I remember that I asked him 
what he did for a living back in the 
States — those service uniforms were 
great levelers — and he said he was a 
parson. "But now you are a chauf- 
feur," I objected. "Well, you see," he 
said, "when I first came over they asked 
me to fill out blanks indicating what I 
could do, and in that statement I ad- 
mitted that I could run a car. I also 
said I could preach. They tried me out 
as a chauffeur and liked my work so 
well that they said they would stand pat 

11 



INTRODUCTION 

on that; they had never heard me 
preach." 

As a matter of fact, I heard Mr. 
West preach that morning to the boys 
suffering from war neurosis, or "shell 
shock," in Hospital 117. He had 
helped them out on former Sundays 
there, and they sent for him again and 
again. 

Later, when I was in the Baccarat 
sector, I met a most interesting and 
effective man who was in the Supply 
Department of the "Y" on week days, 
and conducted services in outlying 
camps every Sunday morning with 
great success. He had been a circus 
acrobat back in the States. What a 
revolutionizing influence war is, with 
preachers chauffeuring and acrobats 
preaching! The important point was 
that they were all serving whole-heart- 
edly in whatever way they could. 

It was in Baccarat that I met West 
again, running his car, transporting 
newspapers or moving-picture ma- 
la 



INTRODUCTION 

chines, or canteen supplies, or itinerant 
entertainers such as I, out over any sort 
of road toward the front line. His 
glimpses of the great war were from an 
angle of vision that makes what he has 
to say in this book well worth reading. 
His duties took him into every sort of 
billet, and brought him into close touch 
with many branches of the army, as well 
as with all sorts of welfare work and 
workers. I find that he refers, in pass- 
ing, to that dramatic moment when we 
stood on a hilltop and watched the 
bombing of Baccarat just below us, 
while the Boche machine passed very 
close overhead. He does not say that he 
hid behind one tree and I hid behind an- 
other, trying to keep the trunks between 
us and the flying shrapnel. Nor does 
he say that he picked up and carried 
home a fragment which landed between 
us in the road, although it came just as 
near to me as it did to him! 

This started out to be an introduction 
to a book. It is really a personal ex- 



INTRODUCTION 

pression of good will toward one whom 
I was glad to meet and touch for a 
moment in that strange whirlpool of hu- 
man activity last summer in France. 

Burges Johnson. 

Vassar College, 

March 3, 1919. 



14 



CHAPTER I 
FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 



"TJALT!" 

JL X When above the noise and 
rattle of the car — for a Ford always 
carries a rattle — you hear the stentorian 
command of the guard, instantly every 
stopping device is automatically ap- 
plied. 
"Who Goes There?" 
"A friend with the countersign." 
"Advance! and give the countersign." 
The guard at charge, with bayonet 
fixed, awaits your coming. When you 
get within a few feet of the point of 
his bayonet the guard again commands, 
"Halt!" In the silence and blackness of 
the night you whisper the password and 
if he is satisfied that you are indeed a 
friend he says, "Pass, friend." If he is 
not satisfied you are detained until your 
identity has been established. 

15 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

No matter how many hundreds of 
times you hear the challenge ring out, 
each time you hear it a new thrill runs 
through your whole being and a new 
respect for military authority holds you 
captive, for you instinctively know that 
behind that challenge is the cold steel 
and a deadly missile. 

It was a splendidly camouflaged 
camionette that I inherited from 
Hughes when I went to Baccarat on the 
Alsatian border. In all my dangerous 
trips, by night and day, it never failed, 
and I think back to it now with a ten- 
derness bordering on affection. 

My first day on the job I was sent out 
to five huts with supplies, driving my 
own car and piloting the men who were 
sent out to pilot me. Although they had 
been over the roads and were supposed 
to know the way, they did not have a 
good sense of direction and so were 
easily lost. 

The headquarters of the 37th Divi- 
sion were at Baccarat on the Alsatian 

16 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

border. Strasburg lay fifty miles to the 
east and Metz fifty-five miles to the 
northwest. To hold this front, an area 
fifteen to twenty miles long, was the 
task of the Ohio boys until they were 
relieved by the French the middle of 
September and sent into the Argonne 
Forest. 

Over this area were scattered twenty- 
one Y. M. C. A. huts. The Head- 
quarters hut was at Baccarat, which was 
farthest from the front line — about ten 
miles back as the crow flies. The other 
huts were scattered over the area at 
points most advantageous for serving 
the boys and up to within a few hundred 
yards of the line. We had thirty-four 
men and ten women secretaries. Our 
farthest advanced woman worker had a 
hut all her own at Hablainville, a vil- 
lage where our troops were billeted and 
where Fritzie kept everyone on the qui 
vive by his intermittent gifts of high- 
explosive bombs and shells. 

Miss O'Connor always inspired con- 
17 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

fidence. It mattered not whether she 
was dealing with the hysterical French 
women when bombs exploded in their 
gardens and fields, or whether she was 
counseling with the Colonel, at whose 
table she was the invited guest. Her 
quiet assurance, her cordial greeting, 
her intelligent understanding, and her 
keen sally of wit made her always wel- 
come. And the boys thronged her hut. 
She did not try to "mother" them — the 
mistake some canteen workers made. 
Nor did she try to "make an impres- 
sion" upon them. She quietly lived her 
life among them. No one could long 
be boisterous where she was, and so I 
always found her hut a rendezvous 
where men were glad to resort as they 
came from the battle or from camp. 

Many were absorbed in their reading, 
of which there was a good assortment — 
the daily papers, the magazines and a 
choice collection of books furnished by 
the American Library Association. 
Other groups were intent upon chess or 

18 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

checkers, while in the piano corner were 
the musically inclined. Sometimes it 
was a piano or a baritone solo, but most 
often the boys were singing "Keep the 
Home Fires Burning,' ' "The Long, 
Long Trail," or "Katy." 

One day when delivering to the hut at 
TsTeufchateau, I was attracted by the 
strains of music that came from the 
piano in the auditorium — the "Y" there 
had a large double hut. I slipped into 
a back seat to listen. A group of boys 
were around the piano while others were 
scattered through the building attracted 
as I had been. At the old French piano 
was a small khaki-clad figure, coaxing 
from its keys with wizard fingers such 
strains as we had not dreamed were pos- 
sible. We were held spellbound until 
the musician, having finished, quietly 
walked away, leaving his auditors sus- 
pended somewhere between earth and 
heaven. One by one we walked silently 
out to our respective duties of helping 
to make the world safe for such as he. 

19 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

One Sunday evening just at dusk, I 
drove to our camp at Ker Avor. The 
boys called this camp their summer 
home. It surely was an ideal spot in 
the heart of a pine forest, high up in the 
Vosges Mountains. It was also near 
enough to the enemy lines — about a mile 
distant — to make it mighty interesting. 

After delivering our supplies to the 
hut we went out to where a gang of sol- 
diers who were off duty had gathered in 
the forest. One was playing a har- 
monica and another was "jigging" and 
telling funny stories. Instantly and 
gladly they swung the gathering into a 
religious service, with songs from the 
"Y" hymn book and a fine snappy ad- 
dress as a speaker stood on a hum- 
mock surrounded by the silent, thought- 
ful bunch. The sky was our canopy 
and with the moonlight filtering 
through the branches of the pines, an 
indelible impression was registered on 
every fellow there. 

The boys were happy to have us come 
20 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

and showed us about their camp, in- 
cluding an ingenious little chapel which 
had been built by the Germans during 
their occupancy of this territory in the 
early part of the War. 



My first near view of the Boche 
trenches came one day when, waiting 
for our movie man at one of the huts, 
I went out "masked and helmeted" to 
a hill between our first and second lines. 
The peculiar "chills" and "thrills" of 
first sensations are indescribable. Cau- 
tiously and with some inward trembling 
I followed Private Van Voliet, of the 
146th Infantry (Colonel Weybrecht's 
Regiment), across a shell-torn field 
where twisted wire entanglements told 
of former fierce encounters. We passed 
a Stokes mortar battery of the 147th 
Infantry concealed in low bushes. The 
boys, lying idly in their dog-tents, wove 
canes from willow branches wound with 
wire and capped with bullets. I was 
presented with a cane by Private Booth- 

21 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

by and a swagger stick by Private 
Rhoades. 

A five minute walk brought us to the 
"alert zone," where gas masks must be 
adjusted and ready for instant use. 
The guard at the crossroad allowed us 
to pass with the warning, "Keep under 
cover or you will draw the fire of the 
Boche snipers." So we crawled through 
a hole in the camouflaged screen which 
protected the road from German ob- 
servers, and keeping behind clumps of 
bushes we peered through at the 
trenches just across the valley, in which 
Hun rifles lay cocked and primed for 
any American who would dare become 
a target. I confess I breathed easier 
when we got safely back to the "Y" hut. 

Night Bombing 

For four nights in succession Boche 
planes had been trying to drop bombs 
on the rail-head where troop trains were 
being loaded near our Headquarters. 
On the fourth night, when returning 

m 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

from a front line hut with Secretary 
Johnson, who in America was a pro- 
fessor in Vassar College, we stopped on 
a high ridge overlooking the battle line. 
This was a favorite rendezvous on my 
return from night deliveries, as it gave 
a wonderful panoramic view of the 
whole front line for miles in either direc- 
tion. The flashes of the guns, the daz- 
zling brilliancy of the star shells, the 
long lines of varicolored signals as they 
went up from many camps and out- 
posts, and the flares dropped from 
scores of planes, passing and repassing 
in the darkness overhead, can never be 
forgotten. It was a nightly and won- 
derful Fourth of July celebration, en- 
hanced by the weirdness and danger of 
actual warfare. 

As we stood this night, silhouetted 
against the moonlit sky, wearing our 
"tin" hats and with gas masks at 
"alert," suddenly out of the night 
loomed a German plane, flying low, the 
Boche engine distinguished by its own 

23 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

peculiar throb. As it passed over our 
heads it dropped a red flare and pro- 
ceeded toward Baccarat. Evidently, it 
had discovered our signals for that night 
and was using them. As soon as its de- 
ception was discovered our gunners 
opened fire, but not until it had dropped 
four bombs on the town and gotten 
away in safety toward the German lines. 
The explosions from the bombs were 
terrific and the flashes lit up the whole 
sky. We took refuge behind trees as 
shrapnel from our anti-aircraft guns 
rattled down in the roadway and the 
"ping" of machine-gun bullets startled 
our ears. 

When we returned to town we found 
everything in confusion. One bomb 
had exploded in the treetops a half 
block from our billet and had wrecked 
the beautiful mansion of the French 
mayor of the town. It also wounded 
some American soldiers in a nearby bar- 
racks. Another bomb landed between 
two buildings at Hexo Barracks, killing 

24 




GERMAN AERIAL BOMB 
(Small) 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

three of our boys and one French poilu, 
besides wounding many and shattering 
the buildings. Four horses were killed 
by pieces of shrapnel, and when looking 
over the scene of destruction the next 
morning I noticed a hole, clean cut, 
through a half -inch steel tire on a near- 
by cart. It had been cut by a piece of 
shrapnel about an inch long which had 
also gone through spokes and hub and 
buried itself in the ground. 

At four o'clock one day, after the 
regular round of hut deliveries, a special 
order was handed me from our chief for 
immediate execution. In ten minutes 
I was off in my ever-faithful flivver. 
My order took me to Reherrey, a village 
near the line, where a special pass was 
secured from the commanding officer, 
allowing me to go over a dangerous road 
exposed to the German guns. From 
the Y. M. C. A. Hut at Reherrey, I 
took with me a new secretary, a Congre- 
gational minister from the Middle 
West, to relieve McGuffy, the secretary 

25 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

at St. Pole, whom I was to bring back 
to headquarters. 

When we reached the hut at St. 
Pole, the secretaries, including Mc- 
Guffy, were out at the front with sup- 
plies for the boys. While waiting for 
them to return we strolled about 
through the desolate remnants of this 
old peasant village. My companion had 
not been under fire before, so when the 
first shell from the Boche "heavies" 
came whistling and whining toward us 
he hastened to the dugout saying, 
"This is no place for me." He was 
ashamed of his own fear and proved that 
he was a "regular guy" by joining in the 
laugh and jibes of the fellows. Being 
reassured by the passing of several 
shells safely overhead, he rejoined me in 
our tramp through the village. Every 
portable thing of value had been carried 
off by the Huns and what was left had 
been destroyed. Stoves had been 
broken down and beds and furniture 
demolished. 

26 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

When McGuffy got back we started 
for Baccarat. It was a stormy night, 
black as ink, and we had to go over 
roads which the bombardment of the 
early evening had torn up. It took two 
hours to go eight miles. When we ar- 
rived we found an anxious group of 
"Y" workers discussing the probability 
of our having been blown to pieces or 
captured by the Boche, and they were 
just about to send out a searching party. 



No soldiers ever had anything on the 
boys from the Buckeye State. They 
had been sent to the Alsatian border to 
hold the line against a threatening foe. 
Persistent rumors told of a German 
drive on this sector. Nothing but our 
men and guns and a few hastily con- 
structed wire entanglements stood in 
their way. And the German army had 
a name for sweeping right through such 
open country and taking what it 
wanted. But many things caused Fritz 

27 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

to stop and think. The German raiding 
parties were failures. Only two out of 
a score succeeded in getting the Amer- 
icans. That meant that the Yankee 
out-posts were not only on the job but 
also that they were absolutely fearless 
and able to capture single-handed 
superior numbers of the enemy. 

Then, one night just as the Germans 
seemed to be concentrating on a danger- 
ous salient, eighty of our big guns in a 
couple of hours coughed up twelve 
hundred tons of gas and spit it in the 
faces of an enemy that dared to think it 
could fool with Uncle Sam's boys from 
Ohio. For two days after, the Boche 
were carrying their dead out of that 
area. 

No more threats of a German drive 
were heard in that sector, but reports 
came frequently of Boche prisoners and 
deserters who offered to surrender whole 
companies of Huns if they could only 
be guaranteed that the Americans 
would spare their lives. 

28 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

Major H, a friend of old college days, 
was a staff officer of the 37th Division 
and was as brave as he was big. His 
clear brain and military genius laid 
out our machine-gun nests. He had 
studied carefully every foot of ground 
and planted machine guns wherever 
they could command an enemy advance 
or night raid. The direct and crossfire 
of these guns were so coordinated that 
many guns could play upon a danger- 
ous enemy approach. It was a most 
exciting chess game which was being 
played with real armies and men. 

The Petty Post was the strategic 
point of our army out in No Man's 
Land, and signals from the post would 
give warning of any sudden move of the 
enemy. Its location was changed from 
time to time. 

On August 27, at 7 :30 p. m., we left 
headquarters in the official car. Two 
chauffeurs who knew every shell-hole in 
the roads and who could feel their way 
in the darkness were in the front seat. 

29 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

Major Hazlett and another major who 
was inspecting trench conditions and 
personal equipment were on either side 
of me in the back seat. The powerful 
motor "purring" quietly waited Major 
Hazlett's "We're off." Quickly the 
eight kilometers to the field headquar- 
ters of Colonel Galbraith, 147th Regi- 
ment, were covered. After cordial 
greetings the Major was closeted in 
secret conference with the Colonel. In 
a half hour we were off again. Major 
Hazlett alone knew his objective. 
That night it was the sector near Heber- 
viller. The captain's headquarters was 
a little frame shack eight by ten feet, 
carefully guarded in the heart of a 
dense woods. The sentry at the door 
demanded the password. In the weird 
candlelight were the captain and four 
aides. We sat on empty boxes and the 
edge of a table. Runners coming in out 
of the blackness of the forest stood at 
attention while they communicated their 
secret information and awaited further 

30 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

orders. Here investigations were made 
and all the latest "dope" on possible 
enemy action was obtained. 

It was gratifying to note the solici- 
tude of the officers for the comfort of 
the men. It was early fall and the 
nights were cool. 

"Captain," said the Major, "how are 
your men dressed?" 

"There is no complaint, sir." 

"Do they still have their summer 
underwear?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"It is getting too cold for that. I will 
see that a new issue is granted." 

All stood to salute as we took our de- 
parture. When again on our way the 
conversation of the back seat showed 
that the interest of these officers in their 
men was genuine. For example : 

"Harry, those boys do not have any 
overcoats. Nothing but raincoats for 
these cold nights. Whose fault is that? 
Can't you get some action?" 

"They must have them immediately. 
31 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

I will so report to the Issue Depart- 
ment.' ' 

Many times our car came to a sud- 
den stop as a stentorian "Halt!" pierced 
the darkness and our second chauffeur 
went forward to give the countersign. 
One weak-voiced guard failed to make 
himself heard until our car was almost 
past. Major Hazlett was instantly 
aroused : 

"What is the matter with your voice?" 

"Nothing, sir. 

"Then shout it out. If this happens 
again I'll have you court-martialed." 

"Yes, sir!" And with a salute we 
proceeded. 

Our last mile with the car was over 
shell-torn roads and past guards who 
dared to pass no man without full proof 
of his identity. Many German spies 
had been caught recently. Through the 
ruined village of Heberviller we passed 
to the old chateau. Here we left the 
car with the chauffeurs, and having been 
armed we started with two guides for 

82 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

the trenches. Every gun emplacement 
was inspected to see if orders had been 
faithfully carried out — and woe betide 
the man who failed. The Major's inti- 
mate and technical knowledge of every 
detail in machine-gun fighting, won the 
admiration of the men. 

For three hours we walked "duck- 
boards" 1 through a maze of connecting 
trenches, stealthily and silently follow- 
ing our guides and stopping "dead" 
when a star shell burst near us. We had 
secret hopes of taking prisoner some 
of the "Heinies" whom we could almost 
hear breathing out there in No Man's 
Land. 

As we talked with the men in Petty 
Post No. 10, the German 77's were feel- 
ing for some vulnerable point just back 
of our line. We could see the flash of 
the gun and hear that peculiar, f ascinat- 



1 Duck-boards are sections of boardwalk laid in the 
bottom of the trenches to keep the soldiers up out of 
the mud. These sections are about ten feet long and 
two wide, and made by nailing cross pieces to two 
scantling. 

33 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

ing "whine" as it passed over our heads, 
and finally its mocking challenge as it 
found its target. One of the men who 
was off guard, lay curled up in a shell 
hole beside the trench, sleeping peace- 
fully to the music of the guns. Con- 
versation here was whispered, and even 
the illuminated faces of our wrist 
watches were carefully concealed in our 
pockets. And every man knew well 
the reason why. 

The sergeant in charge had a "hunch" 
that Fritz was coming over at a certain 
hour of the early morning. We knew 
that "dope" coming from enemy sources 
is often misleading and decided not to 
wait for the "party." The next day we 
learned that the "party" was not 
"pulled off," and our return to camp 
gave us a few hours of perfectly good 
and needed sleep. 

An Air Battle 

Boche planes overhead were so com- 
mon as to excite little interest, but when 

34 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

in the midst of a heavy anti-aircraft 
barrage, the French children playing 
outside our garage excitedly announced 
"Trois Boche avions," we left off "tun- 
ing up" our engines and went out to 
watch them — three specks high over- 
head and out of range of our guns. 
Suddenly, from somewhere in the sky 
above, two Allied planes shot toward 
the German "birds/' and a battle en- 
sued which we could clearly see, al- 
though they were too high for us to hear 
the sound of their machine guns. 

With terrific burst of speed one of 
our planes shot toward one of the Ger- 
man planes and seemed almost to ride 
on top of it, all the while pouring into 
it a stream of machine gun bullets, the 
smoke of which we could see. When 
they separated, ours rose but the Ger- 
man shot downward, evidently out of 
control, and we held our breath in 
anxious joy as we watched him drop 
two thousand feet or more. Then as he 
came through a cloud and was hidden 

35 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

from the view of our planes, he suddenly 
righted and shot off toward the German 
lines. 

The next day the same thrilling scene 
was staged a little to the south of us. 
But this time there was no disappoint- 
ment. The rapid "pu-pu-pu-pu-pu" of 
the machine gun told us that our pilot's 
gun was working perfectly, and a burst 
of flame from the enemy plane told also 
how true was his aim. 

There can be no more thrilling mo- 
ments in life than when you are watch- 
ing bodies out of control hurtling 
through space and are breathlessly an- 
ticipating the crash. Your heart sus- 
pends operation, even for an enemy. 
Hun though he was, he was still a hero 
of the air, and chivalry prompted a de- 
cent burial on the banks of the beautiful 
Meurthe. The wrecked plane furnished 
souvenirs for the many who saw it fall. 

Hand Grenades 

The hand grenade is a mighty dan- 
36 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

gerous weapon, but also a most effective 
one when wisely used. 

At Merviller I was delivering a load 
of supplies to the Y. M. C. A. hut. A 
quarter of a mile to my right a deaf- 
ening explosion was accompanied by 
a mass of debris thrown high in the air. 
"A German bomb!" was the first 
thought. And we waited expectantly 
to see where the next one would strike. 
When there was no second, I drove 
around to investigate. On a side street 
I found a crowd of soldiers and French 
civilians already gathering. The Red 
Cross ambulance had "beat me to it," 
and the surgeons were already working 
over the mangled bodies of four Amer- 
ican soldiers. The street was littered 
and unexploded hand grenades lay 
everywhere. Two soldiers had been 
carrying gunny sacks filled with gre- 
nades when one accidentally exploded, 
it in turn exploding others until the 
wreckage was complete. A military in- 
vestigation would report the cause of 

37 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

the accident and the damage wrought, 
and thus an incident of war would 
quickly become history. 

Through a German Barrage 

On my last Sunday with the flivver I 
drove with Secretary Armstrong to our 
hut at Pettonville. In the forenoon we 
helped Secretary Reisner in the canteen. 
Then we closed, ate a lunch, and, loaded 
down with cakes, raisins, cigarettes, and 
tobacco, started for the trenches. As we 
neared the front line the Germans be- 
gan shelling the woods toward which 
we were headed. While we did some 
lightning calculating, we never slack- 
ened our pace but went through to the 
battalion headquarters. There a sniper 
volunteered as guide to the trenches. 
We passed several company head- 
quarters and gave out our supplies to 
the men as they stood in the line with 
their mess kits. 

When we left the first-line trenches 
we walked or crouched through woods, 

38 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

where the bark of the trees toward the 
enemy was riddled and broken by bul- 
lets, shrapnel, and shell; then through 
trenches which had been abandoned but 
which ran far out into No Man's Land 
and furnished splendid avenues to our 
Petty Posts. No. 4 was the first, and 
was so exposed that only one man at a 
time was permitted with the guide. 
Secretary Armstrong went first. While 
we were examining the graves of Ger- 
man aviators who had been killed when 
their planes crashed to earth, a rifle 
bullet whistled over our heads. We had 
been seen by a German sniper, so we 
quickly crouched low behind the trench 
wall. I found myself right over the 
grave of one of the Germans, and was 
rewarded by finding on it a piece of 
German shell, grim paradox of the for- 
tunes of war. 

We continued through the trenches to 
P. P. No. 5. This was our nearest point 
in this sector to the enemy front line. 
It was difficult to get through because of 

39 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

the mud and water in the trench. In 
some places, because of exposure to the 
enemy guns, we had to crawl on our 
hands and knees. At the post were 
eight men, two at the observation post 
and the rest in a dugout nearby. The 
men at the P. P.'s are on guard forty- 
eight hours, and off twenty-four hours. 
After ten days they are relieved and go 
back for ten days' rest. 

This special post was raided four 
times during that week. One report 
said three hundred Germans came over 
but the men at the post said about sixty. 
One attack was a surprise and they got 
four of our men. The other times the 
Germans were routed with varying 
losses. The P. P.'s are only observation 
posts and are not intended to be held in 
case of raid, but usually our boys were 
eager to give Fritz all that was coming 
to him, and they seldom failed no matter 
how largely outnumbered. 

There were no signs of fear among 
our splendid fellows, and while it re- 

40 



FIVE WEEKS IN A FLIVVER 

quired courage to be a mile or more be- 
yond the supporting line, lying out in 
No Man's Land, yet the very danger 
and the adventure of it made a mighty 
appeal to the full-blooded Yank, and 
there was never a lack of volunteers. 



41 



CHAPTER II 
ON THE MOVE 

OVER THERE" excitement was 
the normal condition, and the 
real soldier was never satisfied unless he 
was in the thick of the fight. Even 
"holding the line" on the Alsatian 
border was tame, and the news of Cha- 
teau-Thierry made the Ohio boys 
"green with envy." Their more fortu- 
nate guard comrades of the 26th and 
42nd Divisions had covered themselves 
with glory. Where would the next 
American blow be struck? 

"Anything doing up at the front?" 
was the first question shot at every dis- 
patch rider or truck driver who came 
"along the pike" from the north. "The 

whole d country is full of Yanks!" 

"Ten divisions packed in between Toul 
and Nancy." "Never saw so much am- 

42 



ON THE MOVE 

munition in my life." "Couldn't get 
through for the traffic." Such reports 
kept the boys of the 37th on tiptoe of 
expectation. Would they get a chance 
for the "big push"? 

Imagine, therefore, the peculiar thrill 
of every man when about September 11, 
it was announced officially that the di- 
vision was to be ready for an immediate 
move. The boys were to be "stripped" 
for action. Every unnecessary thing 
was thrown into the salvage pile. Mil- 
itary trains were placed on the sidings 
in the railway yards at Baccarat to be 
loaded with men, horses, and equipment. 
These trains to move off on schedule 
time, about two hours apart, until the 
last had taken its departure. 

For two nights steady streams of 
French troops, ammunition wagons, 
guns, and army trucks had poured into 
Baccarat on their way to relieve the 
various units of the Ohio Division. 
Four horses, two abreast, would be 
hitched to an artillery wagon on which 

43 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

was mounted a camouflaged '75 (three- 
inch gun) . The heavy guns were drawn 
by six or eight horses, two abreast, with 
a rider for every two horses. 

The Y. M. C. A. headquarters were 
on the corner where the two main 
streets of the town crossed. One night 
about ten o'clock we stood on the curb 
watching two lines of men and wagons, 
one from the south and one from the 
west, as they came together at this 
corner and flowed on through the town. 
It was a fascinating and weird night 
scene. Suddenly we heard a Boche 
plane. When it passed overhead it 
dropped a star shell which lighted up 
that whole section of the town and re- 
vealed the long lines of French infantry 
and artillery. The burned out shell 
dropped just across the street from us. 
Evidently, German spies had given 
notice of the movements of troops and 
scouting planes had come over to get 
information and take pictures. These 
were closely followed by bombing planes 

44 



ON THE MOVE 

which tried to destroy the bridge over 
the Meurthe and thus hinder the move- 
ment of troops, but their bombs went 
wide of their mark and our anti-aircraft 
guns made it so hot for them that they 
could not get near enough to do any ma- 
terial damage. 

Many Chinese troops in French uni- 
forms passed through Baccarat the next 
day. With military precision our boys, 
relieved by these French and Chinese 
troops, poured into the town and were 
quickly loaded on the troop trains. 

Three days before the move a secret 
order had come to the chief of our "Y' 
division to be ready to move with the 
troops. Immediately all our secretaries 
were notified to close their huts and pre- 
pare their stock for removal. "Y' 
trucks were dispatched to bring the 
secretaries and all stock on hand in to 
the central warehouse. Where the hut 
was a tent — and four of the seventeen 
huts were canvas — our expert, who had 
traveled for years with Barnum & 

45 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

Bailey, went with the trucks and 
brought in tent and all. 

The army, desiring to have the "Y" 
supplies and men at the front with the 
boys, put one or two cars on each train 
at our disposal. For twenty-four hours 
without let up the "Y" trucks, manned 
by a score or more of secretaries, rushed 
boxes of chocolate, cakes, raisins, cocoa, 
cigarettes, tobacco, matches, and other 
supplies essential to the comfort of the 
boys, from the warehouse to the trains. 

It was an exciting game to have each 
car loaded when the signal to move was 
given. Sometimes it was a close shave, 
as, for instance, when our car on one 
train having been loaded we were of- 
fered a second car which was accepted. 
We worked feverishly to get it ready 
for the move. It was half filled — only 
ten minutes remained before the train 
was to leave. Our big French truck was 
being loaded at the warehouse as fast as 
willing hands could throw the boxes on. 
Word was dispatched to rush the truck 

46 



ON THE MOVE 

to the train — it arrived in three min- 
utes. The train was being shifted ready 
for the move. Our expert driver (a rac- 
ing pilot in the States) was game, and 
followed the train, stopping where it 
stopped, while the boxes fairly flew 
from truck to car. 

Finally the French train officials or- 
dered our truck away that the train 
might pull out. Our manager said, "Un 
minute, s'il vous plait," while the boxes 
continued to fly. The Frenchmen, be- 
coming excited, waved their arms and 
cursed and threatened in their own 
tongue. What we could not understand 
did not frighten us, and the merry chase 
continued until, in spite of our inter- 
ference, the train began to move, and 
with a few parting shots at the still open 
door, our men in the car placed them as 
best they could, closed the door and 
swung from the moving train. 

It was great sport, and to hear the 
cheers of approval from our boys, for 
whom all this energy was being ex- 

47 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

pended, was ample reward for our 
fatigue and loss of sleep. 

The movement of troop trains was al- 
ways a special target for Boche bomb- 
ing planes, and several times during the 
night Fritz tried to "get" us. Each 
time, however, he was successfully 
driven off by our anti-aircraft and 
machine guns. Whenever we heard the 
planes overhead and shrapnel began to 
burst around us, we would scurry to 
cover underneath the cars, which gave 
us protection from the falling pieces of 
shrapnel and the machine-gun bullets. 

Troop trains had a never waning in- 
terest for civilian and soldier alike. The 
French freight cars are about half the 
size of our American cars. The box 
cars were filled with horses and men. 
The horses were led up a gangplank to 
the door in the center of the car and 
backed toward each end of the car with 
their heads facing each other. Four 
horses abreast, making eight in the car, 
completely filled it, leaving only a f our- 

48 




GERMAN AERIAL BOMB 
(Large) 



ON THE MOVE 

foot alleyway between them, where the 
men in charge of the horses made them- 
selves as comfortable as circumstances 
permitted. Sometimes the men were 
crowded so tight into the cars that they 
could neither sit nor He down. Usually, 
however, they had more room, and in 
every open doorway they sat with their 
feet hanging outside. A jollier bunch 
of fellows never donned uniform. 

The flat-cars were loaded with gun 
carriages, ammunition wagons, and field 
kitchens. On one car of every train 
were three mounted machine guns with 
their crews, in readiness for any dar- 
ing Boche plane that might swoop down 
on them. Most of the trains that trav- 
eled by day were camouflaged with 
branches of green leaves broken from 
trees or bushes. 

When the last train had departed at 
three o'clock in the morning, we had a 
jollification banquet of canned fruit and 
fish with bread and coffee, first having 
gone in noisy procession through all 

49 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

the sleeping quarters and routed out all 
who were snatching a "wink of sleep." 
On the day previous Armstrong went 
ahead with two of our canteen workers, 
O'Connor and Baldwin, and a camion- 
ette load of supplies and cocoa and set 
up a temporary canteen, ready to wel- 
come the troops when they arrived at 
Ravigny. Dr. Anderson in the Ford 
Sedan also went ahead to choose suit- 
able headquarters and a warehouse in 
which to store our fifteen carloads of 
supplies. 

A "Y" Motor Convoy 

At eleven in the forenoon, after 
spending the morning packing and 
loading, our convoy started. All driv- 
ers knew the route to Ravigny, to which 
point all troop trains had been dis- 
patched under sealed orders. First in 
line were our pilots in an Indian motor- 
cycle and sidecar. They carried our 
official passes which they presented to 
each guard en route. Then after all had 

50 



ON THE MOVE 

passed they proceeded to the next 
guard. Second in line was a Ford 
touring car with our chief of transpor- 
tation and other officials. Next came a 
camionette loaded with food supplies 
and cooking equipment, and after it the 
Renault truck (the writer driving) 
loaded with office supplies, cash boxes, 
and personal baggage. Last of all was 
a big three-ton truck with a miscella- 
neous load and trailing a small truck 
loaded with garage tools. This was our 
traveling repair shop in charge of our 
mechanician. The rest of the staff with 
their personal baggage went by train. 

Ravigny is a small town but an im- 
portant railroad center from which 
troop trains were re-routed to various 
points on the front line. Our division 
was ordered to proceed to Riccicourt, 
a deserted and partly destroyed village 
about twelve miles west of Verdun and 
about five miles south of Avoncourt, 
where our boys went "over the top." 
The women canteen workers, much to 

51 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

their disappointment, were ordered by 
the colonel to remain at Ravigny, where 
they could get accommodations and be 
saved the danger and distress of the 
battlefield. 

At Riccicourt officers and men were 
billeted in every building that afforded 
any protection from wind or rain. The 
mass of troops, however, were on the 
move and bivouacked or quickly set up 
their dog-tents, wherever the order 
to "fall out" was given. Every road 
leading to Avoncourt was filled with 
the motor transportation of many divi- 
sions. Heavy rains at times made the 
roads impassable, but in some way 
traffic was maintained. 

The Y. M. C. A. workers with the 
37th Division were the first on the field. 
They were the farthest advanced; they 
had the largest stock of supplies and the 
most workers of any organization in 
that sector at the beginning of the drive. 
From this center a supply station was 
established at Avoncourt, where hot 

52 



ON THE MOVE 

chocolate was served day and night to 
the men as they were going to and from 
the line of battle. Hot chocolate and 
supplies in large quantities were also 
furnished free to the field-hospitals. 

All secretaries who could possibly be 
spared were dispatched with packs on 
their backs, bulging with chocolate and 
tobacco for the men actually on the fir- 
ing line. As these secretaries trudged 
past the long lines of soldiers waiting to 
"go into action' ' they would be greeted 
with a chorus of "Three cheers for the 
<Y' "—"You can't lose the Y Men," etc. 

When in answer to the requests, 
"Can't you sell us a cake of chocolate or 
a pack of Camels?" it was explained, 
"We can't carry enough for all, and 
these are for the wounded and the men 
on the firing line," there came invariably 
the enthusiastic reply, "That's right — 
they need it more than we do." 



53 



CHAPTER III 
OUR INVINCIBLES 

TWENTY years to make a soldier! 
Well, that depends upon the kind 
of a soldier you want. There were two 
kinds in the Argonne Forest from the 
latter part of September to November 
in that last year of the great war. 

Four long dreadful years the Forest 
had been the impregnable stronghold of 
the Kaiser's minions. The last word in 
the perfection of trench warfare had 
been spoken by them. The most elab- 
orate preparations for the housing of 
their men and officers had been made; 
dugouts of every description, from the 
temporary "hole in the ground" with a 
wooden door and a "cootie" bunk to the 
palatial suite sixty feet underground 
with cement stairs and floors, and with 
bathrooms, officers and lounging quar- 

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OUR INVINCIBLES 

ters, all electrically lighted and well 
heated. 

Machine gun nests had been planted 
in every conceivable point of vantage 
from a camouflaged bush on the hillside 
to the concealed "lookout" in the tallest 
treetop. Cannon of every caliber had 
been placed throughout the woods and 
under the lea of each protecting hill or 
cliff. A system of narrow-gauge rail- 
roads sent its spurs into every part of 
the Forest, delivering ammunition to 
the guns and supplies to the men, even 
connecting by tunnel with some of the 
largest dugouts. 

The Boche had not held this strong- 
hold undisturbed. The traditions of the 
battlefield, passed from lip to lip, told 
of numerous and costly offensives by 
the French and English, but always the 
same story of failure to take or hold the 
Forest. 

When the American offensive was 
ready to be launched the French were 
eager to gamble, first, that our dough- 

55 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

boys could not take the "untakable," 
and second, that if by any miraculous 
procedure they succeeded in breaking 
the German line, they could not hold 
what they had taken. This did not 
mean that they doubted the courage or 
the ability of our men, but that they did 
have knowledge of the impregnable 
nature of the German stronghold. 

On that eventful morning near the 
end of September, the rainy season hav- 
ing started and the mud of the Argonne 
vying with the mud of Flanders, our 
guns began to cough and roar. For 
three terrific hours they spoke the lan- 
guage of the bottomless pit and caused 
the very foundations of the earth itself 
to quiver. Germans taken prisoner by 
our men afterward acknowledged that 
they had never heard anything so ter- 
rifying in their lives. 

Having sent over their letter of in- 
troduction, our boys followed in person 
with a shout and a dash. Over the top 
and through the wire entanglements of 

56 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

No Man's Land they fairly leaped their 
way. Hundreds of tons of barbed wire 
had been woven and interwoven between 
posts driven into the ground. These 
posts were in rows and usually stood 
about three feet out of the ground. The 
rows were four feet apart. 

Then through the trenches of the 
German front line they swept, and out 
across the open country which lay be- 
tween them and the Forest. The marks 
of the four years' conflict were every- 
where visible: the blackened and splin- 
tered remains of trees, the grass-covered 
shell-holes, the ruined towns and the 
wooden crosses, silent markers of the 
tombs of the dead. Besides these were 
the fresh holes in the fields and on the 
hillside where our guns had literally 
blasted the whole face of the ground. 

The shell-holes ranged from the 
washtub size made by the 75's to the 
great fissure-torn holes made by the big 
naval guns, and which would make an 
ample cellar for an ordinary dwelling 

57 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

house. I have seen horses which had 
fallen into these great holes shot and 
covered over because they could not be 
gotten out without a derrick. 

In the Forest proper our boys en- 
countered machine-gun nests, artillery 
pieces of every caliber, and the Boche 
with whom the woods were infested. 
Besides the opposition of an active 
enemy, were the natural barriers of 
deep ravines, stony ridges and cliffs, 
and in many places an almost impas- 
sable barrier of dense underbrush and 
fallen limbs and trees. 

Through all of this, however, our 
boys pushed that first great day, ignor- 
ing every danger which they were not 
compelled to conquer in their rapid ad- 
vance. When they emerged from the 
Forest they swept down the hillside, 
through the gas-filled valley, and 
stormed the ridges beyond. On the 
crest of one of these ridges was Mont- 
faucon, a strongly fortified position, 
said to have been one of the observation 

58 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

towers of the Crown Prince during the 
four years of the war. Having sur- 
rounded and taken this stronghold, they 
swept on through the next valley and 
having reached their objective ahead of 
schedule, dug themselves in while the 
fire of German guns pierced and de- 
pleted their ranks. 

Whatever military critics may say, 
our hearts thrill with pride for these 
heroes, who being given an objective 
took it with an impetuosity which 
caused them to even outrun their own 
barrage. And having taken it, to hold 
on for days at whatever cost until the 
heavy artillery could be brought up to 
support their line and make a new gain 
possible. 

When the first surprise shock was 
over and the enemy realized that the 
Americans were really taking their im- 
pregnable fortifications, and opening 
the door for the defeat and bottling up 
of the whole German army, their resist- 
ance stiffened to desperation, and our 

59 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

boys had to literally hew their way to 
victory. 

In reciting my experiences with the 
37th Ohio N. G., Major General C. S. 
Farnsworth, commanding, I am but 
echoing those of every other division en- 
gaged in that wonderful Argonne 
battle. 

The tragedies of the Argonne will 
never be fully written or told. Men 
who have witnessed the butcheries of 
war are liable to be silent about the 
worst they have seen. It is the unspeak- 
able. 

"Sergeant O'Connor!" 

"Here, sir," coming to salute with a 
snap. 

"There is a machine-gun nest in the 
top of a big tree a mile from here on the 
left of the road leading over the hill. 
Silence it." 

"Yes, sir!" again coming to salute 
and turning to carry out the order of his 
captain. He knew the danger, but ex- 
ecuted the order. 

60 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

When this tree was pointed out to us 
we understood how difficult had been 
the task. The limbs had been shot off, 
but the great trunk was unhurt. About 
forty feet from the ground the limbs 
branched and there a nest had been built 
for the machine gun, which commanded 
the forest trail and the surrounding 
country. 

On the morning of the third day of 
the "big push" five "Y" men started 
with heavy packs of supplies to find our 
brave lads of the 37th who were some- 
where in the line. We were given as 
guides two privates who were returning 
to the front for more prisoners. They 
had brought in many prisoners that 
morning. I was interested and drew 
one of them into conversation. 

"How many prisoners did you have?" 

"A bunch of fifty. We captured so 
many that first day it was hard to get 
them all back quickly to the retention 
camps." 

"I suppose they were all disarmed." 
61 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

"O yes, all weapons were taken from 
them and they were searched for secret 
messages or information which would 
be valuable to our army." 

"Were they allowed to keep any of 
their belongings?" 

"Only the clothes they wore and their 
caps. Sometimes they would also keep 
their gas masks and canteens." 

We were on a forest trail. The mud 
from recent rains covered our leggings 
and our heavy hobnail shoes. We came 
to a crossroads in the heart of the For- 
est. Our wounded on stretchers were 
everywhere. I can see now the ban- 
daged eyes of the gassed patients, the 
armless sleeve or the bared breast with 
the bloody dressings. I can see the 
silent forms of those who would never 
fight again. 

But my heart thrills as the white arm- 
band with its red cross comes out sharp 
and distinct in the picture. Our doctors 
and surgeons were the miracle-workers 
of that awful field of slaughter. And 

62 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

the ambulance men were the angels of 
mercy to thousands whose lif e blood was 
wasting fast away. 

The "Y" man with his pack always 
received a sincere welcome. There was 
a smile of gratitude as a piece of choco- 
late was placed in the mouth of one 
whose hands were useless, or a cigarette 
and a light given to another whose whole 
frame was aquiver from the shock of 
battle. There were the eager requests 
of the Red- Cross men for extra sup- 
plies for the boys whom they would see 
when Mr. Y-Man was not with them. 

"A dead Hun is the only good Hun" 
— this was a war definition, and true at 
least while the battle was on. Every- 
where through the Forest were Boche 
made "good" by American bullets. 
Near a dead German officer was a 
group of our boys looking over the 
"treasures" which his pockets held. 
There was also a photo of a French 
officer. Evidently, the Hun had earlier 
in the war killed the Frenchman and 

63 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

taken his picture for a souvenir. Was it 
poetic justice that the Hun should fall 
victim to a Yank bullet, and that the 
photo of his captive, together with his 
own, should be taken by his American 
slayer and given as souvenirs to a Y. M. 
C. A. secretary? 

I was one of a score of "Y" men who 
followed Farnsworth's division into ac- 
tion, establishing hot chocolate stations 
and carrying on our backs great packs 
of chocolate, cigarettes, and tobacco 
which we gave away to the boys on the 
battlefield. There we met the wounded 
who, having received first aid, were be- 
ing carried on stretchers back to the 
field dressing stations, where the army 
surgeons were working feverishly under 
trees or in protected valleys. From 
here continuous lines of stretcher- 
bearers with their precious burdens 
moved back to the field hospitals. 

On the edge of the Forest near Mont- 
f aucon and about three miles back of the 
line was the nearest field hospital in an 

64 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

elaborate system of German dugouts. 
The location was well concealed on a hill 
thickly covered by forest trees and a 
dense tangle of underbrush. Much time 
had been spent by the Boche soldiers in 
making it not only secure but attractive. 
Rustic fences protected the wooden 
walks leading to the main entrance. A 
maze of paths as in a garden, connected 
the various entrances (doorways). 
Long flights of wooden steps led down 
fifteen, twenty, and even thirty feet 
underground. The deepest cave was 
connected by a tunnel with the railway 
system that had branches everywhere 
through the Forest. 

When we found the head surgeon we 
told him we had chocolate for his pa- 
tients. He took us to one of the wards 
where thirty men were crowded into 
four small rooms. The odor of death 
was in the air. The labored breathing 
of unconscious men cast a gloom that 
was hard to shake off. 

"How do you stay here and keep 
65 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

sane?" I asked the doctor in charge. 
For five days and nights he had scarcely 
slept, and all he had to eat was what he 
prepared for himself on a little stove in 
the six-by-ten room that served for office 
and living quarters of himself and his 
assistant. "The boys are wonderful," 
he said, "and one forgets himself in try- 
ing to save them." 

As we went from cot to cot with a 
piece of chocolate for each, gripping the 
hands of some and looking into the eyes 
of others too far gone even to speak, we 
knew he had spoken the truth. No com- 
plaint escaped their lips. The fight of a 
great new dawn kindled in the eyes of 
many, and their smile of gratitude for 
the kindness done them made the small 
service rendered a sacrament sacred on 
the field of battle. 

Returning one evening after a won- 
derful but terrible day with the boys on 
the front, we worked our way along a 
ridge where our 75 's were belching fire 
into the ranks of the enemy. We were 

66 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

giving out the last of our supplies to the 
crews who were manning these guns. 
I stopped to speak to an infantry major 
who was directing the movements of his 
men by telephone and messenger from a 
former German dugout where he had 
taken up temporary headquarters. 
When I came up he was standing by a 
gun looking out over the battlefield and 
watching the stretcher bearers return- 
ing from the "line." He had tried in 
vain to get more artillery sent forward 
to support his men who were being 
mowed down by the merciless fire from 
the Boche machine guns and cannon. 
At first his voice choked with emotion, 
and then revenge took possession of him 
as he cursed the Hun for bringing upon 
the world such slaughter. It seemed as 
if his great heart would burst as he real- 
ized the suffering and the sacrifice of 
his boys whom he had ordered to hold 
at any cost. His voice choked as he 
cried, "My God, but they are punishing 
my boys." 

67 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

As we walked on in a driving rain- 
storm and through mud and underbrush 
and wormed our way amid wire en- 
tanglements, we came upon a field 
kitchen and were invited to supper. We 
gladly accepted and sat down in the rain 
to potatoes and meat, bread, butter, and 
coffee, with a dessert of pancakes and 
syrup. It was a meal fit for a king, and 
no food ever tasted quite so sweet. It 
was about fifteen miles to our hut, and 
darkness had overtaken us. While we 
were eating, an empty ammunition cart 
drawn by four horses came along, and 
the sergeant in charge offered us a ride. 
The offer was gladly accepted because 
we had no guide, and for two hours we 
bumped over the rough forest trail. 

On the way we overtook many of our 
wounded, who after receiving first aid 
had attempted to walk back to the 
camps in the rear. Wherever we found 
them we gave them a lif t to the nearest 
rest camp or ambulance station. Some 
whom we were privileged to help seemed 

68 



OUR INVINCIBLES 

completely exhausted and unable to 
drag any farther. 

When at last the forest trail opened 
into the highway the going was faster. 
When within three miles of Avoncourt 
we were stopped by a tieup in traffic. 
After a few minutes' wait, seeing that 
there was no sign of advancing, we de- 
cided to walk on. For two solid miles 
the road was blocked, the rains having 
made the roads almost impassable. We 
worked our way in and out past am- 
munition wagons, Red Cross ambu- 
lances, officers' cars, and army trucks. 
Just before midnight we reached our 
huts at Avoncourt, where hot chocolate 
was being served to never-ending lines 
of tin-helmeted, khaki-clad wearers of 
the gas mask. 

Through this town, now leveled to the 
ground by four years of intermittent 
bombardment, we groped our way to a 
temporary "Y" supply hut, where we 
hoped to spend the night. Upon open- 
ing the door we discovered that every 

69 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

available foot of space on the bare 
ground floor was occupied by "Y" men 
rolled up in their blankets. They were 
so exhausted from their long hikes to 
the front, or their continuous serving at 
the chocolate canteen, that they could 
sleep anywhere. We quickly decided to 
continue our tramp another eight miles 
to the base headquarters, which we 
reached at three in the morning 
drenched and exhausted and literally 
covered with mud. After three hours of 
good refreshing sleep we were up again 
and ready to serve our boys — the in- 
visibles . 



70 



CHAPTER IV 

HOLDING THE LINE 

"/~\ N to Berlin," was the cry of the 
V»>/ whole Yank army. And the 
boys were impatient of every delay that 
kept them from their goal. They all 
felt like the colored private from Ala- 
bama who was asked to join a French 
class: "No, I don' want to study 
French. I want to study German." 

After the hisses had died down some 
one asked, "Why is it you want to study 
German rather than French?" 

'Tse goin' to Berlin." 

Then the hisses gave way to cheers. 

It was that same spirit which caused 
Corporal Cole, of the Marines, to say: 
"The marines do not know such a word 
as 'retreat.' ' That was the spirit which 
brought the curt reply from Col. Whit- 

71 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

tlesey when the Huns asked his "Lost 
Battalion" to surrender. 

The American army was a victorious 
army. It had never been defeated. It 
had faith in its ideals. Those ideals 
were neither selfish nor arrogant. It 
wore no boastful "Gott mit uns" on its 
belt. It desired only the opportunity of 
striking low that nation which dared to 
dictate terms to the Almighty as well 
as to men. It braved three thousand 
miles of submarine peril to meet such an 
enemy. 

Even an invincible army has to 
breathe and eat and sleep. They can 
hold their breath long enough to adjust 
a gas mask, but the mask tells us that 
even in gas they must be enabled to 
breathe. In the heat of the chase when 
the Hun is the hare, they can forget for 
a time that they are hungry, but the field 
kitchen testifies to the fact that hunger 
undermines courage and that an efficient 
army must be a well-fed army. 

To see men curled up in muddy 
72 



HOLDING THE LINE 

shell-holes with the sky for canopy, 
peacefully sleeping, while cannon are 
booming on every side and shells whin- 
ing overhead, is sufficient evidence that 
sleep is not a myth invented by the Gods 
of Rest. 

While the spirit of the boys was will- 
ing to go right through to Berlin, their 
flesh asserted its weakness. Their first 
dash over the top was invincible, and we 
were told that in ten hours they swept 
forward to their goal sixty hours ahead 
of schedule. There they dug in and for 
four days held the line in the face of a 
murderous and desperate German fire. 

During those four awful days I saw 
no sign of "y e 1 1 o w," but everywhere 
relentless courage. 

"Hello, Mr. Y-Man, don't you want 
to see a fellow that has three holes 
through him and still going strong?" 

"You don't really mean it, do you? 
Show him to me. I want to look into 
the eyes of such a man." They led me 
over to a bunch of soldiers who had just 

73 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

come out of the line and there in the 
center of an admiring crowd was my 
man, happy as a lark. His three 
wounds — one in the left breast, one in 
the thigh, and a scalp wound — had been 
dressed, and while these wounds had 
glorified him in the eyes of his com- 
rades, he was ready to forget them. 

Even though a hundred shells explod- 
ing near by miss you, and you become 
convinced that Fritz does not really 
have your name and address, yet each 
explosion registers its shock on the 
nerve centers. If this be long-continued, 
the nerves give way and you find your- 
self a shell-shock patient, tagged and on 
your way to one of the quiet back areas 
where you can forget the war and get a 
grip upon yourself again. 

Holding the line in open warfare 
costs a heavy toll in human life, but 
here again our boys showed their in- 
vincible spirit. Not once did I see a 
Yankee that showed any eagerness to 
get away from the line. The mortally 

74 



HOLDING THE LINE 

wounded accepted the sacrifice they had 
been called upon to make without be- 
moaning fate, and remained cheerful to 
the end. Of course when a man was 
"facing West" he longed for the loved 
faces and the heaven of home. We who 
had our own "little heaven" back in the 
homeland knew and instinctively read 
those sacred thoughts and prayers and 
gave just the hand-pressure of deep 
sympathy. 

To have spoken of home at such a 
time would have been to tear the heart 
already breaking, with a deep anguish 
that would interfere with their possibil- 
ity of recovery. So the cheery word of 
hope and faith was given, and any final 
message quietly taken and faithfully 
and sacredly fulfilled. 

The wounded men whom we met 
coming out of the line who were not 
"facing West" were with one accord 
hopeful of speedy recovery, not that 
they might "save their own skin" and 
get back home alive, but that they might 

75 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

get back into the fight and help to put 
forever out of commission that devilish 
military machine that had threatened 
the democratic freedom of the world. 

Then again there were the boys who 
had miraculously escaped being 
wounded, and after days in the very 
bowels of hell, which no pen can picture 
and no tongue recite, had been released 
from the line and were working their 
way back to the food kitchens, the water 
carts, and the rest of the camps. One 
such doughboy, I met near Montf aucon, 
about midway between the front line 
and an artillery ridge where our 75 's 
were coughing shells in rapid succession 
upon the entrenched foe. His water 
canteen had long been empty and the 
nourishment of his hard tack and "corn 
willie" 1 forgotten. His lips were 
parched with thirst and bleeding from 
cracks, the result of long-continued gun 
fire. His body was wearied by the 

1 " Corn willie " was corned beef carried in small tin 
cans and eaten cold when on the march. 

76 



HOLDING THE LINE 

heavy strain, his cheeks were gaunt from 
hunger and his eyes circled for want of 
rest. His whole bearing was of one who 
had passed through suffering untold, 
and yet there was no word of bitterness 
or complaint. His gratitude for a sup 
of water from my canteen was richer to 
me than the plaudits of multitudes, and 
the fine courage with which he worked 
his painful way back to rest and refresh- 
ment caused my heart to yearn after 
him with a tenderness which he can 
never know. 

Where a division is merely holding 
the line, there being no aggressive action 
on either side, except night-raiding 
parties, men can stand it for a longer 
period. Under such circumstances a 
company would stay in the front line for 
ten days, part being on guard while the 
others were sleeping. At the end of the 
ten days they would be relieved by a 
fresh company and return to a rest 
camp in the rear. The boys hardly con- 
sidered it rest, as there was constant 

77 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

drilling, besides camp duties and activ- 
ities of many kinds. 

Out in No Man's Land we had our 
"listening" and "observation" posts. 
These posts are set as near the enemy 
line as possible. It is very hazardous 
work, and requires steady nerves and 
clear heads. Each squad in a post re- 
mains for forty-eight hours, and each 
man of the squad is on actual guard for 
four hours at a time. 

Where men are on the line in aggres- 
sive warfare, the action is so intense that 
they cannot stand up under long-con- 
tinued fighting. In the Argonne fight 
our Ohio division was on the front line 
for five days after going "over the top." 
Then they were relieved by a fresh divi- 
sion, which took their places under cover 
of the night. 

As our boys came out I stood all night 
with another "Y" man on a German 
narrow-gauge railroad crossing, giving 
a smoke or a piece of chocolate to each 
man as he passed. The enthusiastic 

78 



HOLDING THE LINE 

expressions of the great majority bore 
ample testimony to their keen apprecia- 
tion. "You're a life-saver," is the way 
they put it. 

Now let me give you a glimpse of the 
fine courage and noble manhood of the 
boys who were actually facing the foe in 
the front line. I have been with them in 
many positions and under varied cir- 
cumstances even up to within three hun- 
dred yards of the Boche line. First a 
great word — A Yank never feared his 
enemy. 

The most horrible stories of Hunnish 
brutality and barbarity only served to 
intensify the Yanks' desire to strike that 
enemy low. One of our splendid fel- 
lows, a private of the 102nd Infantry, 
came frequently into our station at 
Rimaucourt where I was a hut secretary 
during the first month of my stay in 
France. I felt instinctively that he had 
a story which he might tell, although he 
had the noncommittal way of an officer 
on the Intelligence Staff. Through 

79 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

several days of quiet fellowship the 
story came out. 

It was during the time when the 
Boche were smashing their way toward 
Paris. It takes more courage to face a 
foe when he is on the aggressive than 
when he is being held or driven back. 
Our hero's company was meeting an 
attack. He had previously lost a 
brother, victim of a Boche bullet. The 
spirit of vengeance had stealthily en- 
tered his very soul, and secretly he had 
vowed to avenge that brother's death 
with as great a toll of enemy lives as 
possible, if the opportunity came to him. 

No man ever knows what he will do 
under fire until the test comes, but be it 
said to their glory, our boys never failed 
when the crucial hour came. (They 
were soldiers not of training but of char- 
acter. ) Quietly, with unflinching cour- 
age, our boys awaited the onslaught. 
Finally when the command to fire was 
given our friend selected his men — no 
random fire for him. One by one he saw 

80 



HOLDING THE LINE 

his victims drop until he had accounted 
definitely for six. The next man was a 
towering Prussian Guard. A lightning 
debate flashed through his mind and 
stayed momentarily his trigger finger. 
Was a swift and merciful bullet suffi- 
cient revenge, or should he wait and give 
his foe that which he so much feared, the 
cold steel? The momentary hesitation 
ended the debate, for the Guard was al- 
most upon him. Quickly he prepared 
for the shock, and, parrying the Hun's 
first thrust, he gave him the upward 
stroke with the butt of his gun; but the 
Hun kept coming, and he quickly 
brought his gun down — his second 
stroke cutting the head with the blade 
of his bayonet. The Prussian reeled 
but was not finished, and as he came 
again our friend pricked him in the left 
breast with the point of his bayonet in 
an over-hand thrust of his rifle. Still he 
had failed to give his foe a lethal stroke, 
and as he recoiled for a final encounter 
he resolved to give him the full benefit 

81 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

of a body thrust and drove his bayonet 
home, the blade breaking as the foe 
crashed to the ground. 

There is a sequel to this story which 
we must never forget. Whatever may 
have been the undaunted heroism of 
our boys when in action, each one of 
them not only "had a heart" but also a 
conscience. And while war, which is 
worse than Sherman's "hell," suspends 
for the time the heart appeal and stifles 
the conscience, the reaction is almost in- 
variably the same. 



82 



CHAPTER V 
TANKS AND TRACTORS 

THE infantry is the most mobile of 
any division of the army. Men 
can go where horses and guns find it 
impossible. They can file silently 
through narrow passes or a maze of for- 
est trees and underbrush. They can 
scale cliffs. They can dodge shell-holes 
and negotiate muddy roads and mo- 
rasses. They can move slowly or quickly 
at will and can therefore take difficult 
positions where it is impossible quickly 
to bring up artillery support. 

The Ohio boys were in the line ex- 
posed to the merciless and cruel ma- 
chine-gun and artillery fire of the 
enemy. It was said that the Germans 
had one machine gun for every two of 
our rifles. The conflict was desperate. 
The enemy realized that their cause de- 

83 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

pended upon their practical annihila- 
tion of the American troops. These 
fighters, who with such courage and dis- 
regard of danger had taken this part of 
the impregnable Hindenburg line, now 
threatened their supporting lines. It is 
no disgrace to acknowledge that during 
those awful initial days of the Argonne 
drive we paid the price that an army ad- 
vancing must pay. Of course it was 
heart-breaking to see the long lines of 
our stretcher-bearers coming out of that 
belching brimstone line with the punc- 
tured and broken bodies of our boys. 
But it was glorious to know that the 
line had not wavered. How long could 
they last? And how speedily could ar- 
tillery be brought to their aid? These 
were the momentous questions that 
quivered on every lip and that gave im- 
perative urgency to the commands and 
appeals of the officers who watched with 
choking emotion the slaughter of "their 
boys." 
As we gazed over the valley we saw 
84 



TANKS AND TRACTORS 

to the left a line of slow-crawling tanks. 
They were about as long as Ford cars 
and as tall as a man. They were the 
French "baby tanks" coming up to help 
our boys clean out the machine-gun 
nests. It was perfectly fascinating and 
almost uncanny to watch tanks in ac- 
tion. There was no visible sign of life 
or power, nor any seeming direction to 
their motion. They crawled stealthily 
along, bowling over bushes or small 
trees or flattening out wire entangle- 
ments. Steep banks or deep gulleys 
were taken or crossed with equal ease. 
As a tank would creep up the side of a 
ridge it seemed to poise momentarily on 
the crest, the front part extending out 
into space until the center of gravity 
was passed, when the whole tank 
plunged down headlong. We instinc- 
tively held our breath until we saw it 
crawling away on the opposite side. 

The tanks parked behind a hill. We 
worked our way through the interven- 
ing valley, up the hill past the tank posi- 

85 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

tion, and on toward the battle-line, giv- 
ing out our supplies to all we met or 
passed. Before we had finished, a 
Boche plane flew overhead, took a 
photo of the tank position, and got away 
to the German lines before our aviators 
could give chase. We were warned to 
retreat to a safe position because the 
German guns would shell this area as 
soon as the returning scout brought in 
news of the location of the tanks. Our 
first concern, however, was the service 
we might be able to render the boys. 
Personal safety was a secondary matter, 
especially since death lurked every- 
where. So we continued across a shell- 
torn slope, toward the enemy line, going 
from shell-hole to shell-hole and giving 
a word of good cheer, a bit of chocolate, 
and some smokes to the boys who had 
taken temporary refuge in these ready- 
made "dug-ins" (a shallow protection) . 
Having ministered to the wants of 
our own boys, we felt the brave French 
pilots and gunners of these tanks were 

86 



TANKS AND TRACTORS 

also deserving and as we approached 
each tank on our return trip a small iron 
door in front of the pilot opened, and 
the courteous appreciation, of which 
the French are masters, told us that our 
remembrance of them had been wisely- 
chosen. Fritz was unintentionally good 
to us and waited until we had finished 
our task in that sector and retraced our 
steps across the valley before he began 
to shell it. By that time the wounded 
had also been cared for and removed 
and the tank position changed. For 
once Heinie's shells were wasted. 

For ten wonderful days my duties 
took me (on foot, by touring-car, by 
truck, and by ammunition wagon) from 
the "rail-head" six miles behind the 
trenches where our boys went "over the 
top" on that first historic day of the 
Argonne drive, up to within a half mile 
of the day's farthest advance. 

I saw artillery pieces and heavy 
cannon emplacements everywhere back 
of the line. I saw these guns after their 

87 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

first terrific bombardment, unlimbered 
and moved up to their new positions. 
The heaviest guns, including the big 
naval guns, were especially well con- 
cealed in woods, in orchards, and well 
camouflaged in fields. So well hidden 
were they that I passed within a few 
rods of multitudes of them, as I traveled 
the roads, without detecting their pres- 
ence until I would either hear the dis- 
charge of their shells or see them as they 
were being unlimbered. To move a 
heavy gun in mud is no small task. For 
more than an hour one day I was held 
up in a truck and watched a dozen ex- 
perts, with block and tackle and "cater- 
pillar tractor" move a twelve-inch 
monster from its hidden foundation up 
a slight incline toward the roadway. It 
was an hour well spent, for it gave me 
an object lesson concerning the diffi- 
culty with which great field pieces are 
moved under unfavorable conditions. 

By way of contrast, I watched at an- 
other time a crew of eight men unlimber 

88 



TANKS AND TRACTORS 

an eight-inch gun and move it about 
fifteen feet from its foundation beside 
a railroad track to a flat car, which could 
carry it at express speed to some other 
point of vantage. This told the great 
value of railroad spurs leading up 
toward the enemy lines. 

At one place our boys told me of one 
of our "mysterious" guns, mounted on 
a specially prepared flat car, which 
made nightly trips out to different 
points of vantage for firing on some 
enemy position, returning again under 
cover of the darkness to its secret hiding 
place. 

Having seen the battlefields and be- 
hind the lines of both the Allied and the 
German forces; and having noted the 
military efficiency of the German prep- 
aration and their care in carrying out 
even the minutest details; and having 
observed the skill in preparation and the 
accuracy in use, especially of the French 
artillery; and having been thrilled and 
pleased by the quick and ingenious 

89 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

adaptation of our American army to the 
best and most efficient use of every type 
of weapon, I am thoroughly convinced 
that an intelligent army, governed by 
Christian ideals, is an invincible army, 
no matter what temporary advantage 
military preparedness may have given 
to the enemy. 



90 



CHAPTER VI 
PEN PICTURES 

German Sniper in Crucifix 

AT Chemin des Dames, near Sois- 
sons, one night about the middle 
of April, four Americans (one of Ital- 
ian birth) belonging to the 102d United 
States Infantry, made up a raiding 
party. Their objective was a crucifix 
out in No Man's Land, about four hun- 
dred yards from their own trench and 
within two hundred and fifty yards of 
the German trenches. The crucifix was 
a monument containing a secret inner 
chamber reached by a small spiral stair- 
way. A Boche sniper concealed in this 
crucifix had taken too large a toll of 
American soldiers at that point in the 
line. The four night raiders left the 
American trench at one o'clock in the 

91 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

morning. They crawled on their bellies 
through snow for one hour before reach- 
ing the sniper's post. Seven yards per 
minute is a snail's pace, but pretty good 
time in No Man's Land, where you 
must remain motionless each time a star- 
shell lights up the darkness around you 
and makes your discovery possible. 

The Italian won the privilege of en- 
tering the crucifix to capture the sniper. 
His weapon must be a silent weapon, for 
a shot would expose the presence of the 
whole party. He chose a razor, and 
when he emerged from the crucifix he 
brought with him, as proof that he had 
satisfactorily executed his order, the 
Hun's rifle, fieldglasses, and identifica- 
tion card. Needless to say, no further 
trouble from Boche snipers was expe- 
rienced at that point. The return trip 
was made with less caution and they 
were discovered. When within fifty 
yards of their own lines a heavy machine 
gun barrage opened upon them. It 
then became a race for life, but they 

92 



PEN PICTURES 

reached the safety of their own trenches 
without a scratch. 

German Infernal Machines 

In the German dugouts all through 
the Argonne Forest and on the battle- 
fields were found a multitude of death- 
dealing devices intended to invite the 
curiosity of the Yankee souvenir hunt- 
ers. 

In one dugout near the edge of the 
Forest we found a mysterious-looking 
box which we let severely alone. I had 
seen the diagram of a similar box, which 
had been carefully dissected by a mem- 
ber of the Intelligence Squad. This 
German trap was a finely polished box 
about fourteen inches long by six inches 
at its widest part, and disguised as a 
music box. It had polished hinges and 
lock and an alligator handle in the 
center of the top. It had also a mono- 
gram in one corner. Inside the box 
were two squash-shaped grenades about 
nine inches long and filling the whole 

93 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

center of the box. In the big end of the 
box was a compartment filled with chad- 
dite, a yellow powder, eight times as 
powerful as dynamite. Attached to the 
grenades were four friction handles so 
connected with the alligator handle on 
top as to explode the bombs when the 
box was hf ted. In event of the frictions 
failing to work, or the intended victim 
opening the box some other way there 
was a two-second fuse inserted in the 
end of each bomb, and extending into 
the chaddite compartment, to be set off 
by the removal of the lid. 

A hand grenade was used by them 
which our boys called potato-mashers. 
The head of the potato-masher was a 
can made of one-sixteenth-inch brittle 
steel. The can was about seven inches 
long by four and one-half inches in 
diameter. Around the inside of the can 
was a layer of small steel cogs. Inside 
these a layer of small steel balls. The 
next layer was of small ragged-edged 
scrap steel pieces and the next, poisoned 

94 







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German Weapons 

wBw 



PEN PICTURES 

copper diamonds. The center was filled 
with chaddite. On one end of the can 
was a hollow steel handle about eight 
inches long. A string passing through 
this handle was attached on the inside to 
a touch fuse imbedded in the chaddite; 
the other end of the string was tied to 
a button on the handle. By pulling the 
button the fuse was set off. 

Imagine the destruction wrought by 
one of these exploding in a company of 
soldiers. I have seen many of them 
through the Argonne, but we had been 
warned of their danger and chose other 
weapons as souvenirs. 

A Yank Taken Prisoner 

This story was from the lips of a 
doughboy whose home was in Philadel- 
phia. I had piloted Mr. Cross, of the 
Providence Journal, through the sur- 
gical wards of Base Hospital No. 18. 
This was the Johns Hopkins Hospital 
Unit located at Bazoilles (pronounced 
Baz-wy). One of the nurses said, 

95 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

"Have you seen Tony in Ward N ? He 
has a wonderful story." 

So we went to Ward N, and in a pri- 
vate room at the end of the ward found 
our hero, who was rapidly recovering 
and anxious to be of further service to 
the land of his adoption. His right eye 
was gone. A German bullet was re- 
sponsible for its loss. Thus wounded 
and unable to escape he had been sur- 
rounded and taken prisoner by the 
Boche who forced him to walk on ahead 
of them. 

"When I was unable to drag along 
as fast as they demanded, I was shot at 
by one of the Huns, the bullet making 
a flesh wound in my left leg. They then 
decided to kill me and shot me through 
the heart, as they supposed. I was left 
for dead, but the bullet had missed my 
heart. For six days I lay out in an open 
field, living but unable to move." 

Then his voice lowered as he told us 
the awful nauseating story of how he 
endeavored to quench the unbearable 

96 



PEN PICTURES 

thirst of those terrible days. At last he 
was found by our men who had con- 
quered and driven back the Hun. 

This brave Italian boy had suffered as 
few are ever permitted to suffer and 
live, but his fine spirit was still uncon- 
quered. He was not seeking pity. He 
told the story because we asked for it. 
He told it as though it was the merest 
incident of his life. There was no word 
of complaint at having suffered the 
losses which would cripple him for life. 

It is the same old story that all have 
told who have witnessed the splendid 
courage of our men. I have seen thou- 
sands in the hospitals and on the battle- 
field, many of them literally shot to 
pieces, and I have yet to hear the first 
complaint. And only in two or three 
instances have I heard even a groan 
escape the lips of a man, unless he was 
under the influence of ether. 

"Allied Air Fleets" 

Having watched with keen interest 
97 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

the rapid growth and development of 
the Allied air program, I was ready to 
be properly thrilled by the maneuvers 
of our American squadrons operating 
in conjunction with the army in prep- 
aration for the great Argonne drive. 

I have seen three fleets in the air at 
one time over Avoncourt after that 
wonderful offensive had been launched. 
Part were Liberty bombing planes with 
their loads of destruction for German 
military bases. Part were the speedy 
little "Spads" which were used as scout 
planes. They were very light and small 
and capable of terrific bursts of speed. 

I could appreciate the importance of 
the bombing planes, for I had once been 
privileged to help load one of the mon- 
ster Handley-Page British bombing 
planes. It weighed seven tons, includ- 
ing its load of sixteen 100-pound bombs, 
and was manned by two pilots and a 
machine gunner. 

I am conscious even yet of the thrills 
that pricked my spine, as this monster 

98 



PEN PICTURES 

with nineteen companions spurned the 
earth in a mad, rushing leap out into 
space and sailed away into the night to 
let the inhabitants of German towns 
know that "frightfulness" was a game 
at which two could play. 

The Liberty motors were highly 
praised by our pilots, and I am ready to 
add my testimony to the steadiness and 
reliability of the "ship" which was under 
so much discussion and investigation 
over here. 

On October 10, with Lieutenant Wil- 
son, of the 163rd Aero Squadron, in a 
two-seated Liberty I took a "jump" 
over the Meuse Valley. As we bumped 
over the ground in our first sudden dash, 
and then birdlike rose quickly into the 
air, my sensations were not the hair-rais- 
ing variety so often described by the 
thrilled amateur. When we "banked' ' 
however, on a sharp turn, I had my first 
real sensation — I quickly braced my- 
self lest I fall overboard. At thirty-five 
hundred feet the fields looked like 

99 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

green-and-brown patches, the forests 
like low bushes, and the railroads, high- 
ways, and rivers like tracer lines across 
the face of a map. 

From that altitude the earth was 
beautiful. The enchantment of dis- 
tance had blotted out the rubbish heaps. 
The yellow waters of the turbid streams 
glistened in the sun and the very mud 
itself, which the day before had pre- 
vented my flight, was now but a smooth, 
golden surface. 

"A Public Hanging in War Time" 

On July 12 it was rumored that a 
soldier had been sentenced to be hung 
the next day at ten o'clock for an un- 
speakable crime. The gallows was al- 
ready built on the edge of the camp at 
Bazoilles. I saw it on my afternoon 
trip and knew that the report was true. 
Being interested in the psychology of 
such a scene on the men present, I put 
aside my inward rebellion at so grue- 
some a sight and arranged my trip so 

100 



PEN PICTURES 

as to be present. I reached the camp at 
nine forty-five and was the last man ad- 
mitted. The gallows was built in the 
center of the semicircle facing two hills 
which came abruptly together, leaving a 
large grass plot at their base. This 
formed a natural amphitheater. About 
two thousand soldiers, both white and 
colored, were seated on the grass inside 
a rope inclosure. A company of sol- 
diers from another camp had been 
marched in to act as guards, and they 
formed a complete circle standing just 
outside the ropes and extending down 
to the gallows on either side. 

Many French civilians and visiting 
soldiers lined the edges or looked down 
from points of vantage on the hillside. 
I stood on one side about one hundred 
feet from the "trap." At nine fifty a 
Red Cross ambulance drove up, and the 
prisoner, his hands bound behind him, 
alighted, and accompanied by a guard 
and the officials, walked up a dozen 
wooden steps to the platform. He was 

101 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

escorted to the front of the platform, 
and in a clear, strong voice spoke to the 
almost breathless crowd. He acknowl- 
edged with sorrow his crime, and urged 
upon all the necessity of being true to 
God and their country. He stepped 
back on the "trap," the black cap was 
drawn over his head, the noose placed 
about his neck, the "trap" sprung, and 
with a sickening thud he dropped to his 
doom. For twenty minutes, from nine 
fifty to ten ten, his body hung there be- 
fore he was pronounced by the attend- 
ing surgeon officially dead. 

I never witnessed a twenty minutes 
of such deathly silence. Two guards 
fainted, and the effect on the crowd was 
indescribable. I overheard a colored 
fellow say, "I never want to do any- 
thing bad again as long as I live." 

The body was immediately cut down, 
placed in a coffin, and taken in the am- 
bulance to its burial. It was a silent, 
thoughtful company that went out from 
that tragic scene. 

102 



PEN PICTURES 

"The American Dead" 

"Will we be able to locate the body 
of our boy?" 

So often has this question been asked 
me that I must take a moment to answer 
it. 

I watched two American military 
burial plots grow from the first lone 
grave to small cities of our noble dead. 
One was at Bazoilles, half way between 
Chaumont and Toul. The other was at 
Baccarat near the Alsatian border. 
Each grave was marked with a little 
wooden cross bearing the name and rank 
of the soldier, and beside each cross an 
American flag. 

Many were buried in French ceme- 
teries. At Neuf chateau a section was 
set aside for the use of our American 
army. When I visited it there were 
about one hundred new-made graves 
all plainly marked, and fresh flowers on 
each grave. 

Of course most of the French ceme- 
103 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

teries were Catholic, and Protestant 
bodies could not be granted burial 
within the walls. A touching story is 
told of an American Protestant soldier 
buried close outside the wall of a Cath- 
olic graveyard. During the night 
French civilians tore down the wall at 
that place and rebuilt it around their 
comrade of a different faith. It was a 
beautiful symbol of the new dawn of 
peace when all nations and all creeds 
shall recognize the common brotherhood 
of all God's children. 

France a Great Scrap Heap 

Now that the war is over, France is a 
vast junk heap of arms and equipment 
that cost a mint of money and the brains 
and lives of millions of men. 

For generations to come the soil of 
France will be disclosing to the peasants 
who till her fields, the fragments of 
war's destructive power and the bones 
of heroes who bled and died. 

On the battlefields I saw innumerable 
104 



PEN PICTURES 

quantities of equipment, together with 
guns and ammunition, which had cost 
millions to produce but were valueless 
in so far as their future use was con- 
cerned. I saw the Place de la Concorde 
and the Tuileries Garden in Paris 
packed with one thousand captured 
German guns and more than a score of 
Boche planes and observation balloons. 
On one great pile were three thousand 
Boche helmets, carefully wired together 
and closely guarded so that souvenir 
hunters could not slip them away. It 
seemed a terrible price to pay for object 
lessons for the great celebrations com- 
memorating the overthrow of autocracy. 
But having paid the price it was right 
to use the trophies. 

As the boys went into battle they left 
behind them great salvage piles of 
things they would not need in the fight. 
As they came out of the battle they left 
great piles of salvage which they fer- 
vently hoped the world would never 
need to use again. 

105 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

With the world's war bills mounting 
into the billions, and the value of the 
salvage piles an almost negligible 
amount, the material waste of war is 
appalling. If it will teach the nations 
to be as generous toward the great re- 
construction program as they were 
toward the overthrow of that autocracy 
which threatened the world's freedom, 
then the waste of war has not been in 
vain. 

At Bar le Due I saw great ware- 
houses under management of the 
French government stacked to the roof 
with auto tires and tubes. I had driven 
with our Division Y. M. C. A. chief, Dr. 
Norton, from Neuf chateau to exchange 
an auto load of tires which our half 
dozen cars had worn out, for an equal 
number of new tires. And I knew that 
these great piles formed but a small 
percentage of the hundreds of thousands 
of rubber shoes needed for the vehicles 
of war. 

I visited the great Renault automo- 
106 



PEN PICTURES 

bile plant at Nancy, which the French 
government had taken over for a repair 
station. Literally thousands of army 
trucks and official cars were passing 
through this station in a constant 
stream, either to be quickly repaired or 
thrown into the junk heap. Our own 
case was typical. Our Renault truck 
had broken down at Luneville, twenty 
miles from Nancy. No local man could 
make the repairs. Through our Amer- 
ican army headquarters at Nancy we 
applied to this French repair station. 
At eight o'clock next morning I was on 
hand to pilot a heavy wrecking truck to 
our car. A towing hawser was at- 
tached ; their second pilot took charge of 
our truck, load and all ; and before noon 
we were safely landed at the repair sta- 
tion. A hasty examination by a Re- 
nault expert revealed the fact that ten 
days or more would be required to make 
the necessary repairs. A day or two 
was the longest time they could allow 
any car to remain. So after searching 

107 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

in vain for another garage that would 
undertake the repairs, we towed the 
truck to our Y. M. C. A. garage and 
stored it, that it might be salvaged at 
some future time. 

France is full of broken-down trucks, 
touring cars, and ambulances; of worn 
out engines and the rolling stock of her 
railways. From the English Channel to 
the Persian Gulf her battlefields are lit- 
tered with brass and iron and wood and 
steel. Besides these there are the great 
piles of garments of wool and rubber 
and leather, and the wasting stores of 
army blankets and cots and surgical 
supplies. 

Into the larger salvage piles will go 
the multitude of tents and temporary 
wooden barracks for the housing of the 
fighters from all nations, who for four 
dreadful years held that "far-flung 
battle line." 

A part of this larger salvage pile will 
be the temporary hospitals. In less 
than a year America alone built and 

108 



PEN PICTURES 

equipped hospitals which were capable 
of accommodating a million wounded. 

Then from the battle-line to the At- 
lantic coast we must think of the vast 
supply stations and warehouses, the 
great engineering plants and repair 
shops. America not only built in 
France the greatest ice plant in the 
world but she made every preparation 
on a gigantic scale. 

When she entered the war she went 
in to win, even if it would take ten mil- 
lion of her men to finish the job. Had 
she done less, the final chapter would 
not yet have been written, and a differ- 
ent story might needs have been told. 

Hospital Barracks 

Day by day I watched the magic 
growth of the wooden hospital barracks 
at Rimacourt with accommodations for 
fifteen thousand men, and was inter- 
ested in the engineering feat by which 
an abundance of fresh water was 
pumped from drilled wells in an old 

109 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

chateau to a great reservoir on the 
mountain side, and piped from there to 
every building and ward. 

I watched the same process at Ba- 
zoilles as, nestled in the wonderful 
Meuse valley, that great hospital grew 
from a single base (the Johns Hopkins 
Unit) until it included seven bases and 
was able to care for thirty-five thou- 
sand wounded. 

I spent one night there ministering to 
the wounded as they were unloaded 
from the great American Red Cross 
train. I watched the process with pride 
and amazement. So well organized was 
the army Red Cross that when a train 
was announced the ambulances loaded 
with stretcher bearers were rushed to 
the unloading platform. In seven min- 
utes three hundred helpless men were 
gently taken from their comfortable 
berths in the train and carried on 
stretchers to the platform from which 
the ambulances speedily bore them to 
the waiting wards. 

110 



PEN PICTURES 

During the night of which I speak 
five trainloads of gassed men from the 
Chateau-Thierry fight were thus un- 
loaded at Bazoilles. 



Ill 



CHAPTER VII 
MORAL FLASHES 

THIS chapter is plainly labeled so 
that anyone who chooses may es- 
cape it. 

A preacher without a preachment is 
a paradox. We do not fear the para- 
dox, much less the criticism of the over- 
religious. But we frankly believe that 
the solution of the moral and spiritual 
problems of the soldier, as the army at- 
tempted to solve them, gives a hint to 
the churches which dare not be ignored. 

The soldier was more truly religious 
"over there" than he was before he 
"fared forth" on his great adventure. 
And the reason was not merely in the 
fact that fear of death drives men 
nearer to God. That reason has been 
present in every war. The history of 
all wars proves that war engenders such 

112 



MORAL FLASHES 

hatred, recklessness, and immorality 
that fighters have come out of the con- 
flict more godless than when they en- 
tered. The veterans of our own Civil 
War bear abundant testimony to the de- 
bauchery of youth during the four long 
years of that struggle. 

What is the story of the morality of 
the American army during the struggle 
just ended? Already statistics have 
been compiled showing that the per- 
centage of disease resulting from im- 
morality was so small in comparison 
with the percentage even in civil life as 
to be almost negligible. If we could 
compare the army life of the present 
with the army life of the past, I am con- 
fident the contrast would be even more 
startling. 

Our army was a clean army — an 
army whose actions and modes of life 
squared with the highest standards of 
moral and religious teachings. That 
there were notable exceptions no one 
will deny. 

113 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

Why were our soliders in this bitter 
world conflict better and stronger than 
the soldiers of previous wars? The an- 
swer I want you to think about (there 
are other answers ) is that the army and 
navy officers, from President Wilson 
down, planned wisely and sanely to 
meet the physical, mental, and moral 
needs of our boys both at home and over 
seas. And the results achieved proved 
the wisdom of the endeavor. Had the 
plans been less comprehensive the re- 
sults would certainly have been far less 
gratifying. 

My own experiences cause me to 
draw the same conclusions that many 
others have drawn. "Over there" man 
stood out before his Maker, his very 
soul uncovered, and prayed with a 
frankness he had never expressed be- 
fore. And God revealed himself. We 
may not understand the psychology, 
nevertheless one soldier saw, or thought 
he saw, Christ in a shell-hole stretching 
out his hands in forgiveness and bless- 

114 



MORAL FLASHES 

ing. Another saw God the Father giv- 
ing absolution as his straining eyes 
caught a glimpse of the crucifix. An- 
other felt "The Presence" as the inward 
quietness which follows action crept 
over him. Whatever the form, the ef- 
fect was the same. Men met God face 
to face and lived. 

A captain of infantry coming out of 
the Argonne fight on September 30, 
said: "I have never been a professed 
Christian. I have always considered the 
testimony of so-called Christians as the 
imagination of religious fanatics. But 
I saw Christ up there, and I shall never 
scoff again." A private standing near 
turned to me and said: "We all felt the 
same way about it. It was mighty real 
to us." 

Not many decades ago preachers used 
death as their most telling plea for 
sinners to be converted. The tragic 
death of a "sinner" in a community 
where evangelistic services were being 
held was always held up as the special 

115 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

warning of God. The crude way in 
which this truth was presented does not, 
however, disturb the fundamental fact 
that death does have a sobering ef- 
fect on human judgment and human 
will, and that in the presence of death 
souls do more naturally seek after and 
find God. 

A private of Company I, 165th In- 
fantry, was in Base Hospital No. 117 
suffering from shell-shock. He said: 
"There were only seven of my company 
left. We killed our share of the Huns 
before they got us, but the slaughter 
was awful. To see all your comrades 
shot down around you and then to lie 
helpless on the field — minutes seemed 
ages. And decisions were registered in 
heaven which we can never get away 
from." This boy had been gay and 
frivolous at home, with two automobiles 
at his command and plenty of money to 
use as he wished. He had never been 
forced to the serious consideration of the 
problems of his soul-life until he 

116 



MORAL FLASHES 

squarely faced those problems on the 
field of carnage. 

I was asked to speak at the Y. M. 
C. A. hut at Rebeval Barracks, where a 
veterinary hospital occupies the same in- 
closure as Base Hospital No. 66. My 
audience was made up largely of East 
Side New Yorkers. The secretary, 
Stuart, of Jamaica, said to me before 
the meeting: "Give them the straight 
punch. You know how." He led the 
song service and put plenty of "pep" 
in it. All the boys were singing who 
could. The rest were "hollering" and 
thought they were singing. Even the 
French soldiers and civilians who could 
not understand stood at the windows in- 
terested spectators. The message was a 
straight-from-the-shoulder presentation 
of the life of Jesus Christ and the claims 
of God upon the lives of all men. Their 
keen and close interest showed their re- 
spect and their spontaneous applause at 
the close was proof that the message had 
at least registered. Now, no one is so 

117 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

foolish as to believe that those "rough 
horsemen" went out from that meeting 
to give up all their bad habits, but no 
one will dare deny that their expression 
of approval and appreciation was an ac- 
knowledgment of Christ himself and 
that they were for the time at least 
better men. 

A meeting in a converted hay-loft in 
Brouville was suddenly announced by 
the Y. M. C. A. secretary. The big 
stone building was used to billet the sol- 
diers. Their "bunks" filled almost 
every available foot of space. In one 
corner a group were playing cards. In 
the middle of the room a lank, angular 
figure was "coiled" about a mandolin, 
coaxing an old hymn from its strings. 
Some were sleeping, others were chat- 
ting, and a few were reading by the light 
of tallow candles. The secretary an- 
nounced the meeting. It was Sunday 
evening. Song books were distributed. 
The mandolin player volunteered to 
"pitch the tune." Three or four hymns 

118 



MORAL FLASHES 

suggested by the fellows were sung 
heartily. A brief petition asked for for- 
giveness and blessings on the boys who 
with undaunted courage would soon go 
into action. A few verses of Scripture 
served to introduce the message of the 
hour. Quietly but earnestly the prac- 
tical side of a man's religion was pre- 
sented. The card game, which up to 
this time proceeded without disturbance, 
was now voluntarily abandoned and 
the players' attention riveted on the 
speaker. When it was over they quietly 
returned to their game, more thought- 
ful, because they had themselves chosen 
to hear the truth. 

The Y. M. C. A. hut at Reherrey was 
a mile and a half behind the line. 
Briggs was the secretary. His fine, 
erect carriage and soldierly bearing 
brought him many an unconscious salute 
from the buck private. He was a Billy 
Sunday convert. "I have drunk enough 
rum to float a battleship" was the way 
he told of his wild career. The boys at 

119 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

Reherrey loved and respected him. His 
Bible class was the most enthusiastic I 
saw in France. When he announced a 
Sunday evening service the hut was 
filled. Candles served as chandelier and 
desk lamp. With a sergeant who was a 
live wire at the piano and Briggs as 
song leader, the singing of the fellows 
not only "raised the roof" but it also 
raised the spirits of the men. 

About half way through the talk a 
terrific explosion told us that Fritz was 
getting busy. Quietly all candles were 
blown out. It was a military order. 
Aside from this not a man stirred. The 
message went right on, punctuated by 
the exploding shells. There was no fear 
but an intense interest in the great call 
of God to the duty of the hour. At the 
close the men pressed forward to grip 
the speaker's hand, and as we walked 
out under the stars, a widow's only son 
acknowledged that he had long been the 
victim of the drink curse and had broken 
his mother's heart. "I have taken my 

120 



MORAL FLASHES 

last drink," he said; "I will write to my 
mother, but she cannot believe me. 
Won't you write her too and tell her 
that her son has given himself to the 
Lord Jesus Christ?" 

The most impressive thing to me 
about the religion of the soldiers was its 
wholesomeness. "Over there" a man 
dared to be natural. The mask of pre- 
tense was torn off. Men were not 
hypocrites in the face of death. They 
were free; and that freedom showed 
itself in their religion as well as in their 
pleasures. The soldier whom I met in 
the front line trench with "J need Thee 
every hour" printed across the front 
of his gas mask, was not considered a 
fanatic. 

And when an American Bishop con- 
sented to share a Sunday night program 
with Elsie Janis, the famous vaudeville 
actress, the great Bishop became sud- 
denly greater in the estimation of Chris- 
tian and non- Christian alike, and the 
passionately expressive "Elsie" had a 

121 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

new and wholesome interpretation put 
upon her fun and her jokes by the magic 
which that combination wrought. 

My plea is for that type of Chris- 
tianity, so pure as to be above reproach 
and question and so genuinely human as 
to enjoy the wit and humor and even the 
frivolities of life, its Christliness lifting 
its pleasures out of the mists of evil into 
which we have permitted the devil to 
drag them, and placing them side by 
side with the more serious considerations 
of our life work. 

My observations teach me that the 
effort of the army to solve the funda- 
mental problem of the soldier's spiritual 
life met with a large measure of success. 

The army took millions of our boys 
from every walk of life. It sent two 
and a quarter millions across the sea. It 
fed them an abundance of plain but 
wholesome food. It gave them plenty 
of hard exercise to convert that food 
into hard muscle. It .demanded atten- 
tion, so that a keen mind directed a 

122 



MORAL FLASHES 

strong body. It provided the leisure 
hour with huts where the touch of home 
suggested the writing of millions of 
home letters which otherwise would 
never have been written. Concerts, 
lectures, reading rooms with books and 
magazines and games of all kinds were 
furnished to all — free. Even something 
homemade to eat and drink, in addition 
to the regular canteen supplies, which 
covered practically every legitimate de- 
sire of the men, could be purchased at 
reasonable cost. 

Having done all this for his body and 
his mind, it took a broad view of his 
spiritual needs, and carefully selected 
chaplains from the various denomina- 
tions and creeds and sent them with the 
boys as their spiritual advisers. So 
splendidly was the choice of religious 
leaders made that often on the battle- 
field a Protestant minister or a Jewish 
rabbi would borrow a crucifix and bring 
the word of comfort to a dying Cath- 
olic; or a priest would read the Bible or 

123 



THE FIGHT FOR THE ARGONNE 

the Prayer Book to a dying Jew or 
Protestant. On one occasion a woman 
canteen worker aided a Jewish rabbi to 
give absolution to a Catholic boy in a 
Y. M. C. A. hut when a priest could not 
be secured in time. In all this is there 
not more than a hint for the Church of 
to-morrow? 

These our boys, now men, have come 
back to become the great leaders of our 
new civilization, and they will be intol- 
erant of dogmatic denominationalism, 
and well they may. The church that 
holds their respect and commands their 
allegiance must have a world view of 
Christianity and a Godlike love for the 
lives of all men. And the theology of 
to-morrow must be as broad as the 
teachings of the Bible. 



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